


He Always Was a Bit Odd

by QueenRiley



Category: Being Human
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-13
Updated: 2011-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-16 22:31:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenRiley/pseuds/QueenRiley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitchell remembers something George has forgotten. Set pre-series 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Always Was a Bit Odd

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Abyssinia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abyssinia/gifts).



George didn’t question it when Mitchell showed up at work with a paper crown on his head. He wore it all night. King for a day, he’d said as he’d winked. George didn’t ask. Mitchell always had been a bit odd, even for a vampire.

George didn’t say much when Mitchell kept talking about women. He seemed to be stuck on famous women of power and influence, going further and further back in history as his one-sided conversation went on. George thought little of it. Mitchell always was a bit of a ladies’ man.

George thought it odd when Mitchell decided to stop at the liquor store for some beer on the way home. George was never much of a drinker. He hadn’t really guessed Mitchell was either. He didn’t say anything, just nodded and stayed in the car. He supposed there was nothing wrong with taking up drinking at any time, especially if you were a vampire who couldn’t suffer the consequences.

It was only when George got home, dragging his tired, aching body to his bedroom, that he realized what day it was. What day it had been. And the realization that he had forgotten, and Mitchell had remembered, slammed him like a punch to his gut. He backed into the wall in front of his bedroom door and slid down, eyes locked on the small package sitting there oh so innocently.

It was a small box, not much to look at, probably once held supplies at hospital. Mitchell had placed a cola in it, probably warm by now, but George didn’t mind. There was a small bag of cookies, an apple, and the peanut butter crackers you could get from the machines at work. It was half arsed and that was entirely obvious. But it was effort. Mitchell had put in effort and George… well he’d forgotten entirely.

“It’s one of those things.” He hadn’t noticed Mitchell sit down next to him, hadn’t noticed his presence at all.

“Things?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the little box.

“That basket thing. You give them out on your holiday. Right? I got the right holiday?”

“You did. It is.” George leaned forward and picked up the box. He cradled it close. It smelled of hospital, bleach and powder, and stale crackers.

“I’m not Jewish. But you are. Tradition is important, George. Embrace who you are now, but don’t lose your history.” Silence fell over them, heavy and crushing at his mind. He finally looked up, tears in his eyes blurring Mitchell’s unnaturally still form.

“Technically, mishloach manot are only supposed to be given by…” he trailed off. Mitchell stared. He stared back. “Thank you, Mitchell. For remembering.”

“Happy Purim, George. Let’s have a beer.” Mitchell rose and kicked his leg. George followed with the little box clutched tightly to his chest, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

 


End file.
